


Darling Scion of the House of Stark, Diamond Class

by AngeNoir



Series: Inktober 2017 [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bounty Hunters, Alternate Universe - Space, Bounty Hunters, Gen, Space Opera, Space Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 22:32:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12263394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: There's repairs needed for the Howling Commando, updating of personal firewalls, and just simple relaxation needed after their last bounty. And yet, when they exit their ship, there is their handler from the Guild, telling them that he had picked a new job for them: hunt down the scion of the House of Stark.Inktober Drabble 3 = Universe: MCU / List: Space / Prompt: The Bounty Hunters





	Darling Scion of the House of Stark, Diamond Class

**Author's Note:**

> Written for inktober, based on the prompt "The Bounty Hunter" from a Space list. (You can see [and prompt me!] my initial post about my inktober writings [here](http://outercorner.tumblr.com/post/165938959460/so-i-am-gonna-be-trying-this-inktober-thing-but).)
> 
> I was actually really excited to write this - I love space stories - and then today happened to me and I just. Lost steam. Which is also why this is late by 30 minutes. and short by 200 words. but hey. it's out there i guess.

“How long’re we stopping, Cap’n?”

Steve shot a glare over his shoulder at Clint. “I said stop calling me that, R’Barton.”

“Oh, but it suits you so,” the felinoid hummed, rolling his shoulders and slumping further down in his flightseat. “Why, after that last run, I’m positively inspired by all these upstanding feelings that I--”

“If you get out of this frakking seat and interrupt our landing procedure when you started it I’mma punch you in your grokt throat,” Jaym snarled, ears going flat and tight against his skull.

Steve settled back down in the pilot’s seat, scowling at the screen as he relayed back the verification and signed it with his personal imprint. With just the lightest of touches, he butted the ship up against the landing dock and initiated the air pressure seal. When he finally completed the handshake, he disengaged and then unhooked the neural relay from the base of his neck.

“But really, how long’re we stopping?” Zamael asked from his perch up against the bulkhead.

Heaving a sigh, Steve unhooked his harness and stood up from his seat. Their rig was extremely small; the Howling Commando was an Arcurian scout ship that had been outfitted with shields and ion pulse cannons, sacrificing some of its speed and maneuverability for protection. It was a trusty spacecraft, and Steve had never had cause to doubt it, but it was tiny, especially compared to other crafts. His four-person crew were a team of bounty hunters that specialized in the extreme and the dangerous bounties, working under the Guild’s discretion. Their handler was handling the payment from their last job, and getting them a new one, but for now, they were between jobs, and Steve had to repair some minor damage their craft had sustained during the last chase, and his crew deserved the chance to blow off some steam.

Their docking point was an orbiting station known as Crescent X-983, a common smugglers’ and outlaws’ way-stop. You could find almost anything at stops like these, and Steve was no longer the wide-eyed yokel from a farm commune on a Rift planet; he’d seen his fair share of degenerate hole-in-the-walls, and he was used to them by now. Shouldering his pack and his rig, he strapped the vibranion shield to his back and holstered his bolt pistol.

Zamael was already up and out, his huge wings folded delicately against his back, golden eyes darting around as he bounded gracefully through the zero-g landing dock and down to the port that connected the dock to the body of the station. Clint was hunched down in the back of the ship, loading up the charges in his ARC Bow, and Jaym was reloading his clip with zora grenades.

“C’mon guys, I gotta lock up this ship and I need you guys out to do that,” Steve sighed. “The Commando needs a new set of firewalls.”

“We ought to update our own firewalls,” Jaym grunted. “When we ran down that Van’ko, he nearly hacked my system. Clint’s, too.”

Steve winced. Personal firewalls were very expensive; most people never really needed them, but bounty hunters ran down people who could often hack their way through the average lay-person’s neural firewalls. The last time his crew had updated their firewalls was about two years ago, so it made sense that they needed to renew them, but still...

“Poke around for military-grade firewalls, and let me know what you turn up,” Steve sighed. “I’ll finagle the budget.”

There was a soft ping in his ear - their handler, contacting him. With a frown, Steve lifted his arm and mentally projected forth the call onto the back of his forearm.

“Ro Ger,” their handler said, voice bland.

“Here, R’Coulson.”

“I have a new commission for you and your crew. A 10 mil golcred bounty.”

Jaym, who had hung back - Zamael and Clint out and down the hatch into the station already - frowned at Steve. “That’s political assassin levels of payment,” he said under his breath.

“That’s... unreasonably high for a bounty.”

“You’d be hunting down the scion of the House of Stark. Their heir disappeared from the public eye more than three standard months ago, but apparently they only just decided to contact our offices.”

Steve glanced at Jaym, his brother-in-arms, the humanoid who had been at his side since they could both toddle on their legs, and bit his lip. “Why us?” he finally asked. “I know we’re good, but we’re good on small-timers. We focus on people that skipped from MaxSys or things like that. Not hunting down wayward puppies from the Diamond Class.”

“I am contacting you because the scion Stark is a Gold-Grade hack, someone as close enough to a chop-shop mechanic as a Diamond Class member can get, and because there is evidence that he is, if not  _on_  the station you are on currently, about to dock.”

Steve squinted at his arm, and then at Jaym. “This seems like... more trouble than it’s worth. Gold-Grade hacks have to be kept sedated on deep-six travel, otherwise they could hack the navcomp.”

The rather bland, pale humanoid smiled flatly. “I have every confidence in your ability, Zir Ro Ger.”


End file.
